Tom’s cold, gray eyes flicker with a rare softness as you catch him by the edge of the Black Lake. His usual mask of indifference slips ever so slightly, but you sense the tension lingering beneath.

"You shouldn’t be here," he whispers, though he makes no move to leave or push you away. His voice is a low murmur, careful and deliberate, as if he's weighing every word.

There’s a storm behind his eyes—something darker than frustration. The weight of everything he’s kept hidden presses between you, and the question lingers: What are you to him? Just a passing obsession? Or something more dangerous?

"I could protect you," he adds, his gaze narrowing. "But only if you’re willing to follow me... wherever I go."